Apr. 21st, 2013

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I’ve had a couple of days of pure bad-brain based emotional roller coaster. Incredible highs of glee for no damn good reason, followed by epic crashes of the darkest, bleakest depression imaginable – again, for no damn good reason. Random laughter, random tears, random rages – it’s exhausting and ridiculous and so damn embarrassing.  I need to poke my doc because this is unliveable, I’m not fit for public. Or private.

 The worse thing is that even while the emotional brain is swopping around like a humming bird on crack, my logic brain is sat there screaming at me that none of it makes sense, the emotions don’t make sense, just ignore them, ignore them – WHY CAN’T YOU IGNORE THEM YOU SILLY CRAZY PERSON!?!

And it’s beyond humiliating not being able to because I feel like someone sent down to central casting for a crazed Malkavian and I showed up as a perfect match. That’s just embarrassing. Beloved has been in full mad person management mode which must be exhausting.

 I used to be much better at handling the epic mood swings, I’m pretty sure (actually, Beloved tells me I really really wasn’t – but self-delusion is all). I think a combination of the truly irritated logic brain and sheer embarrassment is helping ride the waves a little more.

 At least one advantage is that Beloved knows his way around my bad brain chemistry and isn’t trying to calm down the hypers or cheer up the sads and we have our old pattern of “oh look you appear to be having a bugnuts moment, let’s pretend it isn’t happening until it passes, or ruefully acknowledge it in a vaguely embarrassed way” kind of like if someone’s flies were undone or they had spinach in their teeth.

 I’m quite sure therapy blokey won’t endorse that as a coping mechanism.

 Put this down as reason #90796 that I need my pills, I guess. It is pretty cheap entertainment though - after all, how can you be bored like this?

 

 

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Trying to get an even keel and settle I spend the whole day with Beloved trying to find some kind of balance in my brain. When there’s a knock at my door.

Now, controversial it may be, but I have absolutely no compunction about call screening or not answering my door when I’m not up to it. And after some Unfortunate Incidents, people don’t get keys to my house any more, no no they do not.

So I was quite content in ignoring this banging when we heard yelled:

“I know you’re in there.”

There was a pause while we both considered who this could be and how irritating the visit could be. When we heard:

“If you don’t answer I will lay siege to this place! I shall tumble the walls and salt the earth to the sound of gnashing teeth and the lamentations of your women!”

Ah F. Yes it could only be F. You can’t ignore F. F won’t be ignored. Ever.

Beloved:  F, I don’t think we have any women to do any lamenting.

F: What, Sparky wouldn’t be able to cook for me. That would make me lament!

Beloved: Does that make you our women?

F: I tend to think of myself more as a wench. Don’t you think I’m an excellent wench?

(someone outside answers)

 Beloved: F… are you asking out neighbours to rate your wenchiness?

 F: Your next door neighbour thinks I’m a Grade A wench I’ll have you know!

 Sparky: ye gods, let her in before we have to move.

 Alas, even the Awesome Wenchiness (her words) can't work miracle cures, but at least extreme emotions are not without basis with her around.

 

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